


Silly Little Witchling

by EmeraldSage



Series: Witchling (Happy Halloween) [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Creepy, Halloween, Halloween 2018, Happy halloween, I forgot that I live in front of the woods when I wrote this, Kind of you need to know it for things to come, M/M, SO, Spooky, The pairing is in the background, i did this to myself, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 14:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16477352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: Just because you don't name it, you ignore it, and you deny it's existence...doesn't mean it'll do the same for you.[Halloween 2018]





	Silly Little Witchling

            It was dark.

            That should’ve been the first telling thing that had thrown him off, but it wasn’t.  It was dark, his breath misted the air, and he could feel the richness of the freshly turned soil underneath his feet.

            He was barefoot, he realized.

            He dug his toes into the rich soil, testing its give idly. An odd scent twined around him, and he tilted his head up, sniffing to catch it.  Odd, he thought, it was a familiar scent.  It was as if moonlight could give off a scent, dancing through the air around him, as if lacing every breath with something enchanting, something intoxicating.

            Moonlight tickled his cheek, and he felt the corner of his lips twitch downwards.  Something about that felt odd.  He dismissed it.

            He wandered aimlessly through the field – though how he knew it was a field in such complete darkness bewildered him – the grasses tickling the soles of his bare feet.  Wind whistled around him, dancing about him, and he shivered.

            How odd.  Was he still in his pajamas?  Just an overlarge t-shirt his lover had left behind one day, running late for his flight, and his boxers?  He must be, he decided.  That would be the only explanation for why he was so cold.  He knew – better than most – than to dress so carelessly in the cold of the autumn.

            That…that was true, wasn’t it?  He _did_ know better than to go outside in nothing…nothing but his…his pajamas.

            When…when did he go outside?  He didn’t remember leaving the house.  In fact, the last thing Alfred could remember was locking the windows before curling up in bed.

            He wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, hoping it would fend off some of the chill.  The wind danced teasingly against the back of his neck, ruffling his hair. Stars gleamed above him, tauntingly, and he wished desperately for a jacket.

            There was a noise nearby, almost like a wolf howling. How odd.  There were no wolves near his home outside DC.

            He was finding a lot of things quite odd tonight.

            Was it still even night?

            Huh, how odd a thought.  Of course it was night - lo, how dark it was!  The stars were gleaming tauntingly and the moonlight tickled his cheek, but otherwise he couldn’t see a thing!  But then again, how odd was that?  He had exceptional vision at night – born from centuries of wandering around in the dark by moonlight - and yet, he couldn’t see a thing. Not the grass between his toes, nor the dusty wind howling as it blows...nor the shadows that grew deeper and darker with every thought mulled over under the moonlit glow.

            And yet, how was it that he still managed to _know_?

            The wind whispered again, drawing closer to him, its words and sweet promises escaping his ears.  He curled his arms tighter around him, the cold’s chill suddenly frigid. Odd, forever odd, he noted.  These little, little things that broke with the reality he was so familiar with.  It had been cold, indeed, when he’d laid his head down to sleep.  But it had not been like _this_.  Not like a spine deep shiver; an icicle turned fluid and injected deep and deeper still...freezing all it touched until nothing of warmth could get rid of it. Not the damning touch of frost on flesh, that chilled and _burned_ all its unwary.

            Odd.  So odd.

            Wait.  What was that he heard?

            Odd, it sounded like the music of a morning bird - those like he’d find outside his window, when spring had crested and the wind danced with glee not with death in every bated breath.  His brows furrowed, puzzled.  It was October, was it not?  Those morning birds had long since gone - fled down South until the North once again warmed.

            And there it was, again!  He turned his head, back and forth, but the darkness was thick and heavy, and something settled deep into his stomach when he realized he still could not see a thing through its obscuring opacity.

            It mattered not.  On he walked, through the grass-covered ground, with the soil pressing up against bare feet, and the wind dancing along unclothed arms.  He bit back a shiver.

            Something echoed in the darkness; like a warm sigh as it whispered, silken, against his cheek.  The words were just beyond his reach, but they felt familiar.  They resonated with something within him.  But even so, another shiver danced down his spine, setting the hair on the back of his neck on edge.  His body racked, drowning in cold.

            Something brushed past his face, and he startled, unwinding an arm from around his middle, and reaching up to touch only to freeze.  He had brushed against wood.

            But, had he not been in a field, only moments ago?

            The whispers almost seemed to _giggle_ , their delight lit the ever-chill air around him, and his body shook with cold once more.

            He placed his palm firmly on the wood that he’d just brushed against, mind racing as best it could when everything suddenly felt hazy. Wood, he’d brushed against wood - but where was it?  Why was it that he was looking in front of him, looking down, looking everywhere - but could see nothing but darkness and the kiss of moonlight on his skin?

            And then against his neck, a voice whispered, “ _Little witch’s child_ ,” and his breath hitched. He opened his mouth to scream but the sound was swallowed by the darkness around him, lingering only in the dazed confines of his mind.

            Laughter, breathy and dark like a ghost of a memory dancing by, and now he couldn’t move either.  The world seemed to swim around him.  There was a hand on his face, fingers like the touch of a cloud tracing a path up his cheeks until they rested against something weighted covering his eyes.

            A blindfold? Was that why he couldn’t see? But then how did he see the darkness growing deeper? The stars that teased his eyes?  What of the kiss of moonlight on his skin?

            Laughter again, this time the chill of hoarfrost against his skin.  “ _Careful, little witchling_ ,” the voice scolded mockingly, “ _pretty little princeling. Caught, wandering the woods at night._ ”

            An owl hooted, and a wolf howled.  A heavy regard rose from ahead.

            He could not see it, and he could not hear it. But he could feel the weight of its gaze turned on him.  He could taste its gleeful anticipation as it realized who had so unwisely wandered so close.

            “ _Little witch’s child_ ,” another voice rumbled all around him, echoing through the timber of the woods he could almost see.  But this voice was not taunting or mocking or even cautiously warning, as the presence behind him had done.  This voice was deep and damning, gleeful but resounding with a power that nearly sank him into the ground, dropping him to his knees.

            The ghost of hands danced across his cheeks, pressing down and curling around a cloth he couldn’t feel that veiled his eyes from the world around.  Laughter came again, but this time terror struck him in the heart.

            “ _Careful, little witchling_ ,” it giggled, “ _naughty little princeling.  No Daddy to save you here tonight_.”

            And then the veil was _gone-gone-gone_ and he saw the woods looming before him, his bare feet resting on the barrier of roots marking its edge.  The moonlight kissed his skin and the stars twinkled their glee, and all the world grew darker and darker until darkness was once more all that he could see.  But it wasn’t darkness covering the forest, no – for that would’ve been enough.  The darkness was coalescing, taking shape. And it was coming closer, closer, _closer_ -!

            “ _Silly little witchling_ ,” the voice whispered again, “ _Did Daddy never warn you…?”_

            He pushed himself off of the roots and spun, bolting across the open field he must’ve wandered through during the night.  The wind was laughing, uproariously, as it whipped up into a gale he couldn’t control, drowning out the pounding of his heart that raced in his ears.  Stars gleamed and winked at him, dimming their brilliance as the moonlight faded and the darkness swelled. His breath misted like a wash of frost, and the ground crunched soundlessly under bare, bruised and bloody feet.  And still the darkness _reached_ –

            _“…to stay away from the woods at night?”_

            And down, and down, and down he went, as the darkness seized him.  His panicked cry swallowed as he tumbled down and down and _down_ –

            Down onto the rug-covered hardwood floor of his bedroom, in his house just outside of DC.  Wide-eyed and terrified, with a scream still locked behind his teeth, and staring straight ahead of him at the window opposite his bed.

            The window he’d locked just before going to sleep. The window facing the woods behind his neighborhood.

            The window that was now open, screen torn with claw-like markings that had scratched at the bullet-proof panes.

            The window with the lock now broken.

            “ _Silly little witchling_ ,” the breeze whispered into his ear, “ _we’ve only just begun._ ”


End file.
